If there is such a thing as re-incarnation,
and I am not saying if there is or isn't,
then I KNOW for sure
that I was once a farm wife.
Each harvest I revisit the idea.
I cannot look at a farmer on a combine
without pausing and thinking
that somehow this used to me my husband,
my life.
My favorite color is the color of ripe wheat.
And here in Saskatchewan
that color is everywhere
this time of year.
Every fall when I process the garden produce,
that which I have grown
but more often
that which I have had delivered
by our Hutterite friends,
my thoughts turn to simpler times.
Almost as if I have lived them.
And of course the "ping" of the jars sealing...
well those of you who do canning
know exactly what I mean.
It is soul satisfying stuff.
And seeing those jars all lined up,
cooling on a towel,
knowing you are putting food by
for your family...
nothing like it.
And snapping off the ends of beans
as you sit on the deck
overlooking your "homestead"
makes you think of all of
the women who came before you
who did exactly the same thing.
And as the freezer fills
with summery goodness
a sense of accomplishment
overtakes you.
Vine ripened tomatoes.
No other words necessary.
And this rustic pot rack
(thank you Paul and Pinterest)
while not too pretty
but oh so functional,
I just love it.
I love seeing my collection
of cast iron pans hanging there.
My first one was from my Grandmother.
It is seasoned to perfection.
Its the one on the top right if
you must know.
And this rhubarb jam
from rhubarb Athena and I
found tossed over a fence in an alley
was all but free. Free!
Yes, if there is re-incarnation
I must have been a farm wife.
I love every single second
of the process of
preserving the summer harvest.
And I suspect I always will
